nothing happens until something moves
by Laura x Tennant
Summary: Ten/Rose, University AU. The story of two people embarking on a friendship that turns into something more, and the reasons why that perhaps shouldn't be happening. And why it should.
1. Chapter 1

He was stepping out of his lecture when he heard the commotion in the stairwell. Tucking his papers underneath his arm, he shouldered open the door and immediately dropped said papers to the floor, rushing over to the woman lying at the foot of the stairs. He pushed past the students circling around her and crouched down.

"Are you all right?" he asked her in concern, watching as she cradled the back of her head.

"I'm so clumsy," she winced.

"She went down like a ton of bricks," put in some bloke usefully. John rolled his eyes and reached forwards, examining her head.

"It's fine, honestly," she said. "My ankle hurts a bit but I don't have a headache or anything -"

"Think we'd better get you checked out all the same," he replied. Some of the crowd had already dispersed, but to the few still lingering he said, "Can one of you phone for an ambulance please?"

"I'm fine, seriously, there's no need -"

"Nonsense, you might have a concussion. Better to be safe than sorry."

"But I don't want to cause a fuss -"

"It's no trouble," he smiled at her in assurance. "Now, what's your name?"

"Rose Tyler."

"And what's the date?"

She rolled her eyes but answered correctly.

"And the prime minister?"

"Same posh twat it was five minutes ago," she sighed. "I'm _fine."_

He chuckled. "Good enough." He held out his hand for her to shake. "John Smith."

"Nice to meet you," she replied, sending him a lovely smile, and bugger, that smile was going to be a problem.

"Let's check out this ankle," he muttered hastily.

* * *

><p>He went with her to the hospital.<p>

"Don't you have classes to get to?"

"Nah, don't worry."

"What do you do?"

"Physics," he replied, getting into the ambulance with her. "What do you study?"

"I'm doing my Masters in English Lit."

"Ah, excellent! Love a good book, me. What's your thesis on?"

They spoke about her work for the entire journey, which helped distract her from the throbbing pain in her ankle. During the hours she was at the hospital, being examined and x-rayed and the waiting around, he kept up a constant stream of chatter with her, although he barely said anything about himself. It was better that way, really.

Once it was clear she'd sprained her ankle but not broken any bones, the doctors handed her some crutches and that was that; she was cleared to go home.

"I'll call you a taxi," John offered, taking out his mobile. "Save you getting the bus back."

"Actually, I was wondering if you - I mean, there's, a, um…"

He watched her closely as she trailed off, looking nervous. "A what?" he asked.

"A coffee shop. A little bit down the road. I was wondering if you wanted to go, you know, for me to say thanks for you staying with me all day," she said, her eyes darting between his as she searched his expression. When he floundered for a response, she smiled flirtatiously at him. "I mean, it's the least I can do, really, buy you a cuppa - "

"I...it's a lovely idea, Rose, but, um," he paused, clearing his throat. "It probably wouldn't be appropriate, me being a member of the faculty and you being a student, and all that."

"What?" Her eyes widened. "Oh, shit, you're a professor? A professor of physics? Not..."

"Yep." He tugged on his ear. "Did you not…"

"Realise? No. Um. Wow, this is awkward." She shifted in her seat.

"It's okay, I'm flattered you thought I looked young enough to be a student," he chuckled.

Rose swallowed. "Well, a PhD student, maybe. So, uh...how old are you?"

He scratched at the back of his neck as he answered quietly, "I'm thirty-five."

She flushed. "Oh, right. Well that's…"

"Yeah."

"I - I wasn't - that, the coffee thing, it wasn't - I wasn't like, asking you on a date or anything."

"No?"

"No, course not, I mean, I just met you, anyway, so. I was just - we were having a great chat and, uh, I wanted to say thanks for coming with me today and everything. That's all."

"Oh, well, if it's...if it's just that, then that's - fine."

"Wait, really?"

He put his phone back in his pocket. "Yes, of course. Nothing inappropriate about a thank-you cuppa." He flashed her a reassuring smile, even though his stomach churned with nerves.

* * *

><p>That first afternoon at the coffee shop, getting to know one another over lattes and blueberry muffins, led to several return trips. Not on purpose, mind you; it just so happened that she liked to do her work in there, and he soon discovered that so did he. Nice atmosphere, and all that, and really, some very good coffee. It wasn't like he was going in there deliberately to try to catch sight of her.<p>

Nevertheless, when they did cross paths now and then, it always brightened up his day.

"Shall we pop along to the museum?" he asked her one morning, placing the paper he was marking back onto the pile in front of him.

"Hmm?"

He sniffed casually. "Well, what we were talking about yesterday - I found out that they've got a lot more to say on the topic than I do, in there. Great exhibition on at the moment, apparently, and - "

"Sounds good," she nodded. "When?"

He glanced at his watch. "I'm free now."

"Okay," she agreed readily. She looped her arm through his as they made their way along the pavement. He pretended not to notice.

* * *

><p>Another morning, about a month after they first met, she complained about needing some fresh air, and so they grabbed some supplies and he drove them out into the countryside, and they went walking, as he termed it, over hill and over dale. Well, maybe just one small hill. They huffed and puffed for breath as they stood surveying the route they'd taken from above.<p>

"I'm so unfit," she grumbled, flopping down to the ground to rest. He handed her some water and she gulped it gratefully. "How do people do this every day?"

"It was only a couple of miles, Rose Tyler," he teased, sitting down next to her.

"Oh, shut up."

They laughed, and when they had recovered, they raced back down the hill and across the field, back to the safety of his battered old blue fiesta.

* * *

><p>"I didn't know you liked art," he said, noticing that she had a leaflet for the opening of the new art gallery in town.<p>

They were walking along a cobbled street, her with her laptop and a few books stacked up in her arms, him with his briefcase swinging between them, as they made their way to the coffee stop. They'd met up just outside campus and decided to stroll into town together to take advantage of the sun being out.

"Oh, yeah! Love it. Used to do a bit of sketching myself."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Do you still…?"

"Nah, not got time."

"I think you should keep up a little hobby, though. Gives you a break."

"Do you have a hobby?" she laughed.

"No, but then I'm famously a workaholic."

"Ah, right," she smiled. "I see."

"I'd love to see something you've drawn."

"Not gonna happen."

"Why not?"

"I'm not that good."

"Bet that's a lie; bet you're being modest."

"How can you possibly bet on that when you didn't even know I drew until a few seconds ago?"

He shrugged. "Dunno. You just look like you'd be good at all things artistic."

"Right. Sure."

"You do! Anyway, this new art gallery. Reckon it'll be any good?"

"Why don't we find out? It opens tomorrow, and anyone can show up." He watched as she focussed her eyes ahead of them to make her suggestion. "We could, I dunno. Go together."

He probably shouldn't. It was getting far too like date-territory.

"Okay," he answered, feeling a bit giddy about going against what his rational mind was telling him to do.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. What time is it?"

"It's an evening thing. Eight o'clock. You should wear this suit," she said, reaching out a hand to smooth along the sleeve of his jacket. "Thing about these type of artists, the ones with fancy studios, is that they do things a bit posh for my liking. No jeans for me tomorrow night."

"I'm sure we'll cope." He dropped his gaze to her jeans. They fitted her very well, but there was no denying that he was intrigued to see what her legs looked like out of them. That is, in a situation where she was wearing a dress. Not through any - nakedness. Or - no. He cleared his throat.

* * *

><p>John leant against the wall of the building that the new gallery was housed in. It was ten to eight, and he was a tiny bit impatient to see Rose. When she came walking down the street towards him a few minutes later, a black trench coat covering her shoulders but left open to reveal a striking red, floaty dress that hit just above her knees, he pushed himself away from the wall with a gulp. Her shiny black heels made soft clicks against the pavement as she closed the distance between them, and John didn't quite know where to rest his gaze.<p>

"Hello," she smiled, reaching him at last.

"Hello," he murmured back, eyes drinking in her face and the way she had her hair done up in a clip with a few waves left loose and framing her features, and if he were to just lean in and press his mouth to hers, move his hands through her hair and let it fall down her back, would she -

He coughed awkwardly, his body tense as he told himself to keep still, his lips pressed together to stop himself asking her if he could kiss her.

"Shall we go in , then?" Rose laughed uncertainly, when they just stood there for a minute looking at one another.

"Oh! Yes. Of course." He turned to go in and she slipped her hand into his and his heart took a tumble in his chest. But he let her entwine their fingers and neither of them said a word, and when they got chatting to the owner of the gallery, the woman's assumption that they were a couple also went uncommented on by them.

* * *

><p>"Did you know that there's a museum in Belgium solely for strawberries?" he mused, staring up at the blue sky. It was a lovely spring day, completely perfect, really, for the end of March. He'd never seen this park look so perfect.<p>

Rose, who was lying on her stomach reading a book about classical rhetoric, glanced across the picnic blanket at him indulgently. "No there isn't."

"Yes there is!" he insisted, rolling onto his side. "And who can blame them," he added, picking up a strawberry and waving it at her. He bit into it and let out a contented noise. "Delicious."

"Those ones are _so_ inferior, though. You wait 'til the summer, I'll get you some better strawberries than those imported ones."

"Promises," he teased. "Anyway, these are perfectly fine. Try one."

"I'm reading," she said primly. She turned her face back to her book but he could see that she was smiling.

He shifted closer to her, placed a hand on her lower back. "Rose, do you want another interesting strawberry fact?"

"I dunno, do I?"

He touched a strawberry to her lips and she took a bite. "They are members of the rose family," he informed her.

She wrinkled her nose. "You are so cheesy."

"What? They are! Lots of fruits are relatives of the rose."

"If you say so."

"You are wildly uninformed about your namesake."

"You are wildly too informed about useless facts."

"I resent that. I'll have you know I'm a professor of physics," he said mock-sternly. "And physics is just about the most important subject there is."

"I'll have you know that I've got to write an essay on this," she said, shaking her book at him. "Not on strawberries. And you have to teach classes on gravity or whatever. Not. Strawberries," she teased.

"I dunno, I bring you to a nice park for a picnic and you lie there insulting me."

"Why did you, by the way?" she asked softly, seriously.

His hand, the one still on her back, twitched slightly against her vest top. "It's a nice day. You needed to get out of that coffee shop. Being cooped up in there on a day like this? Not good for the soul," he laughed, eyes bright. Avoiding.

Rose nodded. "Thanks. This is nice. Really."

"You're welcome." He pried his hand from her, but not before his fingers ghosted up her spine once or twice. Rolling onto his back once more, he was alarmed to find a few fluffy clouds in the sky, spoiling the blue.

"That looks like an elephant," Rose said, pointing up at one before returning to her reading.

"Nah. A dinosaur, maybe. Not an elephant."

"Why are you so argumentative?" she laughed.

"I'm _not."_

"And stubborn. I've noticed that lately. You're very stubborn for someone who's supposed to be a Mature Adult."

"Oi, you can talk."

"Yeah, but you've got years on me."

"Don't I know it," he mumbled.

"You should've grown out of it."

"Now you're just provoking me," he said, turning his head to the side. She had shifted onto her back, now, book cast aside, her face towards his. "Any other criticisms of my personality while you are at it?"

"Mm, no. Apart from the desire to always be right, and the stubbornness, and the retaining of useless facts, I think you're pretty much perf- fine."

"Were you gonna say perfect?"

"No."

"Rose."

"Nooo."

"You're blushing."

"It's rude to point out when someone's blushing, Doctor. That's another thing, yeah. You, you're rude."

"And you're - " he broke off.

She inched closer, nearly squashing the punnet of strawberries that sat between them. "I'm what?"

His breath rushed out of him in a whoosh. "Young."

She blinked. "We covered that."

"Yeah." He swallowed. "You, er. You're also a good friend. Funny and - and loyal, that's you."

"Ta," she smiled, a little sadly. "You too."

He turned his head back to the sky. "Now that, that's definitely a T-Rex." He heard her sigh softly beside him, and his fingers clenched around a tuft of grass.

* * *

><p>Another day, one that started out as bright and sunny as their day in the park, they hopped onto the open-top bus and took a tour around the city, as though they were tourists. It soon rained, of course, and he shielded them both as best he could with his coat, lifting it above their heads. They laughed through it and continued to point and observe the sights as if they were seeing them for the first time. Neither one of them suggested they go downstairs where it was dry, like the actual tourists had done. When the shower finished, he lowered his coat, then draped it around her shoulders when he caught her shivering. She shifted closer to him on the seat, and at the feeling of her pressed along his side, he couldn't pull away. He knew he should.<p>

He knew a lot of things he should do.

* * *

><p>"Doctor, can you pass me the parmesan?"<p>

He handed it to her across the table, and she caught the look he was sending her way.

"What?" she asked, putting down her fork. "I like cheese, okay?"

"It's not that," he laughed. "I was just wondering...you've started calling me 'Doctor' a lot. Never John. Why?"

"You're a doctor aren't you? It's what it says on your office door," she shrugged. "'Doctor J. Smith.'"

"Well, yeah. I mean, I have my PhD. I just wondered why you call me that."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No."

"It's just nickname, I dunno," she said, spooning some lasagne into her mouth.

"Okay."

It wasn't that he minded her calling him that. In fact, he loved it, loved that it was something just between them, something affectionate, an endearment - no, not that last one. He - no.

But it was, wasn't it? It was almost intimate. A name for him that was just from her. Certainly no one else had ever called him that. Not even at the university. None of his colleagues or him ever made the students address them as such, nor was 'professor' this or that thrown around. All on first name terms, at least verbally. It was better like that, the informality - their students were adults, too, after all.

"Doctor?" Rose said, jarring him out of his thoughts.

He took a hasty sip of wine. "Yeah?"

"Your pasta's getting cold."

"Right."

* * *

><p>No one at work had heard anything about his little trips with Rose. She wasn't the sort to see anything wrong with their mini-adventures, but likewise, she wasn't the sort to spread around the fact that they saw each other so often. He realised that she must have a lot of friends, some perhaps that she'd told about their friendship, but he'd never heard any rumours flying around the university. He'd never had anyone <em>imply<em>anything. Which was -

There was nothing to imply, of course, nothing to -

But still, it was good. No one was talking and that was - yes.


	2. Chapter 2

They rarely saw each other on campus, because they were based in such different departments. But she popped along to his office occasionally, to drop off a book she'd been telling him about, or to eat lunch with him, or just for some company in the evenings when he'd stay longer than his office hours dictated.

On this particular evening, he glanced up to see Rose peeking in at him through the narrow vertical window in his office door, no doubt checking that he was alone. He smiled, and gestured for her to come in.

"Not interrupting you hard at work, am I?" she grinned as she entered, dropping her rucksack to the floor and perching on his desk. There was a perfectly good, empty chair next to the bookshelf, but she always preferred to lean against or sit upon his desk. Every time, it thrilled him a little in its inappropriateness.

"I'm always hard at work," he tutted at her. The double entendre didn't escape him, but he certainly wasn't going to draw attention to it. "Conscientious, that's me."

She smirked, and handed him a coffee. "It's seven-thirty. You should be at home with family, having dinner in front of the TV."

"Don't have a family," he reminded her. "And I do plenty of lone takeaway dinners in front of the telly; it's not as charming as you'd think." He sipped from the coffee and turned back to his computer, continuing to type his replies to various emails. "What are you still doing here, anyway? Shouldn't you be doing all those things young people do?"

"Like what?" she snorted, crossing her legs in his peripheral vision.

"Like getting ready to go out clubbing or whatever, in those student clubs."

"Bit early for that," she laughed. "Anyway, bored of that whole deal. Not my thing."

"Ah yes," he smiled to himself. "You're a proper, professional Masters student who studies all night. I forgot."

"I don't study _all_ night," she corrected, nudging his side with her trainer.

"Oi, don't get my shirt muddy," he chastised, sliding his wheeled office chair slightly away from her. She was silent for a moment and he looked up to find her staring at his forearm. His lips twitched as he fought back a smirk. He knew it. He knew she had a thing for rolled-up sleeves. Not that he'd been -

"Doctor," she said, meeting his gaze.

"Yeah?"

She opened her mouth, then closed it again, and glanced out of his office window. "Oh, shit."

"What?" he murmured.

"It's started raining again. I'm gonna get soaked."

"Stay here a bit longer and I'll give you a lift."

Rose arched an eyebrow at him. "How long are _you_ planning on staying here, though? I do want to see civilisation again at some point in my life."

"Rose Tyler, are you insinuating that I spend too much time in here?"

"Yep," she grinned. "A right hermit, that's you. Don't you have a home to go to?"

"Of course. Just get bored there, that's all," he sniffed.

"What, and this is any better?" she asked, gesturing around his small, rather cramped office.

"Yes. You visit me here," he pointed out.

He actually heard her breath catch, and he swallowed thickly at the thought of what that meant. What had he bloody gone and said that for?

"Anyway, I'll be done in another ten, maybe fifteen minutes or so," he hastened to add. "That suit you all right?"

"Course. Thanks."

"No problemo." He winced. "Don't let me say that again."

Rose giggled and hopped off his desk to peruse his bookshelf while he worked. "Did you finish that book I gave you, yet?"

"Nah, only a few chapters in." She tusked at him, and he defended, "I'm a busy man!"

"All right, I'll let you off. Oh, did you hear? Bloody graduation tickets have gone up again!"

"Ah."

"You should do something about that, Mr Faculty Member. How's Mum supposed to be able to witness her daughter's amazing achievement if you keep boosting up the price of attending the ceremony!"

"It's not my fault," he laughed. "I've got nothing to do with it. Talk to your department. No, better yet, talk to the government."

"Tut tut, don't scapegoat, Doctor. You and I both know it's this very institution that's having a laugh at our expense, not the government this time."

He smirked, and span around on his chair to face her. "How many tickets are you allowed?"

"Just two, same as last time."

"Who's coming for you?"

"Mum. Maybe my friend Mickey. Why?"

"No reason," he shrugged.

"You'll be there, anyway. Won't you?"

"I will."

"Can't believe this is gonna all be over in a few months' time. Well. Providing I pass everything."

"Of course you'll pass," he said softly. "You got any plans lined up yet? Job offers?"

"A few bits and pieces, possibilities, you know. Some publishing houses, that sort of stuff." Rose moved back to her perch on his desk, her hand gripping the edge tightly.

"That's great."

She furrowed her brow at him. "You don't sound very enthusiastic for me."

"I'm pleased for you."

"Yeah?"

He leant his forearms on the desk, right by her hand. "Course. It's just, I'll miss you. That's all."

"I'm not planning on leaving town," she said quietly.

"No? What, are these jobs local? Not London?"

"Not London," she confirmed.

His heart sped up. "Thought you'd get a job back home to be near Jackie."

"I like it here." Her little finger, the extremity closest to him, lifted slightly and brushed against his wrist. Her eyes stayed firmly on his.

"I'm glad," he croaked out.

"We'll still be able to hang out at the coffee shop sometimes," she added. "If you want."

John nodded slowly. He currently felt like he was made of syrup, his movements sluggish and his chest a mess of melting goo. He'd been thinking, lately, about her leaving.

He'd been thinking, lately, about how that would make him feel.

And here she was, telling him she wasn't going very far away at all.

"Did you think I wouldn't keep in contact, or something?" she asked.

He cleared his throat. "Nah, knew I'd never get rid of you completely," he teased.

Rose rolled her eyes, trying not to laugh, and nudged him with her foot again. He grabbed her ankle.

"I've told you, no mud on my shirt. You're gonna have to start taking your shoes off at the door, you are," he said, mock-sternly.

"You sound suspiciously like you're telling me off," she retorted. His hand slipped under the cuff of her jeans, just slightly; fingers encircling bare skin.

Later, he would lie in his bed at home staring up at the ceiling, wracking his brain trying to figure out what had possessed him to say what he said next. He'd conclude, come morning, having not slept a wink, that it was best not to ponder on it any further, best to try to ignore the turn the conversation had taken, and go on with life as normal.

For now, he stroked his forefinger down her lower calf and replied, "You sound suspiciously like you're enjoying it."

Her mouth dropped open and his eyes popped out of his head. He felt the flush creep over his ears and face, and his hand left her leg abruptly. Watching her chest heave in a breath, he tried to formulate some sort of sentence that could allow him to take back what he'd said. Before he could stammer out an apology, though, he caught sight of her dark eyes staring at him.

He knew his voice was ridiculously low when he murmured, "Rose," but in that second he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Maybe I do, occasionally," she said, the words spilling out of her, and it was clear from the anxious, light drumming of her fingers on the desk that she knew she was taking a chance, here.

"You have a thing for professors, do you?" he asked, and why, what was he doing, why was his throat so dry and what, what was he _doing_ -

"No," she said firmly, the corner of her mouth tipping into a small smile. "Just…the odd one or two. Or. Well. Just the odd one."

His left arm was still leaning on the desk, and he brushed the backs of his fingers against her elbow, sending goosebumps dancing across her skin. "That's not particularly professional of you," he pointed out.

"Yeah, well," she breathed out shakily. "The truth is, maybe I'm not so professional after all. Maybe I don't like professional. Maybe professional just gets in the way. You're all anti-establishment; you should get that."

"Mmm."

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "And what about you? You been acting very professional lately?"

"Not at all," he realised.

"Been thinking _un_professional thoughts?"

"Oh, completely."

Her eyes darted between his, searching his gaze, he knew, searching for a sign as to how far she could take this. He had no bloody idea what the answer to that was, but he hoped she saw what she wanted to see.

"Doctor," she whispered. She moved her hand from the desk to his forearm, and gave it a light squeeze. He turned his arm over in her grip, and held hers in turn, fingers pressing into her soft skin. Slowly inching her hand higher, she traced her fingertip along the crease of the inside of his elbow, dipping beneath the edge of his rolled-up sleeve, and he mirrored her movement along the back of her arm. He could hear her breathing, could tell her chest was rising and falling more rapidly than usual. He had a feeling he was in the same boat; certainly, his heart felt like it was trying to jump out of his ribcage.

"You have nice arms," she murmured, then ducked her head, squeezing her eyes shut, an embarrassed smile on her face. "Shut up," she muttered to herself, her free hand then coming up to cover her mouth as she muffled a mortified giggle. She opened her eyes and looked back at him, and he smiled at her, but his cheeks quivered slightly, as though the move was shaky. He was nervous, of course, but he also felt strangely emotional, sitting here with her looking at him like that.

She dropped her hand from her mouth, then, and reached forwards, taking off his glasses. He blinked, and shook his head. "Rose, you're all blurry now. You do know I need those, right?"

"Oh," she laughed quietly, sliding them back onto his face. "Not just for reading, then?"

"Nope," he replied, popping the 'p.' "When you usually see me I've got my contacts in."

"Oh." She bit her lip. "You should wear your glasses more."

"I'll never understand that," he murmured. "I'd much rather have laser eye surgery and stamp on these things, be done with them forever."

"Nooo," she laughed. "They're…"

"What?"

"Sexy?"

"You don't sound too certain of that."

"No, they are. I just…dunno if I should be saying that. To you."

"You can say whatever you want to me."

"I can't though," she said, shaking her head.

Rose lifted her hand from his arm, breaking their contact, but he caught her wrist, anticipating that she was going to leave. "Don't go."

She slid her wrist free from his grasp and shifted on the desk, pushing aside his keyboard so that she could sit right in front of his chair. "Not going," she whispered.

"You could've just got me to wheel over to you, instead of creasing up my paperwork," he informed her, his lips twitching.

She looked behind her and realised that her bum had crumpled some paper on her journey across his desk. "Oops, sorry."

When she returned her gaze to him, he placed his hands on her knees, thumbs stroking over denim. "It's okay. Boring old stuff anyway."

"What's going on, Doctor?"

He lifted a shoulder in response. Trust her to be the brave one, the one to bring it up, the one to try to make sense of whatever it was that was happening between them. He tried to reply properly, give her some sort of answer, some sort of assurance. But he was too much of a coward. He considered getting the bottle of whiskey out of his cupboard to scramble around for some courage, considered being thoroughly irresponsible and asking her if she wanted to get sloshed with him and spend the night in his office. He knew, realistically, he couldn't do that. Really, there were all sorts of things he could not do, however much he wanted to.

"When we're not together," she said, her voice hesitant. "Do you - do you think about me?"

John blinked slowly, and sighed. "Of course I do."

"What do you think about?"

His throat convulsed as he fought for something to say. She wanted the truth from him, but could he - could he really give it to her?

"I…I think about when I'm going to see you next," he murmured.

"So do I."

His hands fell from her knees to grip the edge of his seat. "I think about all the days we've spent together."

"Me too."

"I think about the things I'd say, and do, if things were - different."

Rose closed her eyes at that. "Yeah," she breathed out sadly.

"I want…"

Her eyes fluttered open. "Yeah?"

His jaw clenched tightly shut and he reached out a hand and fiddled with the fraying edge of a hole in her jeans, focussing his gaze on it. "I should take you home."

"Or, you could come home _with_ me," she whispered. And then she squeezed her legs together, slightly, just the tiniest almost imperceptible movement, but he knew, Christ, he _knew_ she was as affected by all this as he was.

John sighed. "Rose."

"Doctor. Look at me," she said quietly.

He raised his head.

"Why can't…?"

The corner of his mouth tipped into a sad smile. "We just can't, Rose."

A few minutes later, he was driving her to the house she shared with her friends.

_Student_ friends.

They lasted the whole trip without saying a word to one another. Thankfully, it was only a short journey. When he pulled up outside her front door, she undid her seatbelt, leant over the gear shift, and kissed the corner of his mouth. She lingered there, lips parted, and whispered, "Goodnight, Doctor."

"Rose," he replied, catching her hand just as she pulled away. "Next time we see each other, we…"

She squeezed his fingers, and let go, getting out of the car and shielding her head from the rain with her rucksack. "We won't speak of it. I know."

She closed the door. "Right," he whispered, watching the windscreen wipers manically trying to sweep the rain aside. He drummed his hands on the steering wheel. "Right."

A click of his seatbelt undoing; his hand on the car door handle - he almost, almost went after her. But - no.

He redid his seatbelt, and drove away.

* * *

><p>"Jack…" he said, leaning in the doorway of his colleague's office.<p>

"Yeah?"

"You're an expert at this sort of thing -"

Jack span around on his chair. "Are you finally asking me for dating tips?" He grinned gleefully. "Oh, you just wait, I have a whole battle plan ready, and -"

"Jack, shut up a sec. I'm not asking you for dating advice. Well, not as such - not for _me_."

"Oh." Jack deflated.

"Have you ever dated a student, Jack?"

"Is someone saying I am?"

"No, no. But have you?"

"No, never. It's not advisable, really, is it? All sorts of trouble lurks within that…arena." He eyed John speculatively. "It's not clear-as-day against the rules, but it's certainly frowned upon."

"Mmm," John mused, his eyes far away.

Jack cleared his throat. "John."

"Mm?"

"Are you dating a student?"

"What? No, of course not."

"Then why…?"

He shrugged a shoulder casually. "A friend was thinking about embarking on something, that's all. But they know all that, that it's frowned upon. Dunno why they're even considering it, to be honest."

"Right." Jack sounded dubious.

"Still! I'm sure they'll see sense soon."

"Yeah."

"I'd best be off. See you later, Jack."

Jack watched his friend leave his office and leant back in his chair, propping one ankle on his knee. "Huh," he said to himself, bemused by his friend's behaviour.

* * *

><p>He avoided the coffee shop for a few weeks, in an attempt to forget about her, or at the very least, forget about how close they had become. And how close they had come to - well.<p>

Of course, as fate would have it, this only meant that he accidentally bumped into her on campus.

"Hi Doctor," she said brightly, no trace of anxiety or anger, hugging a few books to her chest as they crossed paths on the way to their lectures. Him to teach, her to listen.

Because he was a professor. And she was a student. A _student._

…it had become a bit of a mantra, that. In his head. Whenever he saw her, thought about her. Thought about that night in his office. Whenever he looked at the picture he had of them both on his phone, a 'selfie' she had insisted on them taking whilst looking like drowned rats on that damned bus when she had been pressed against him and wrapped up in his coat and looking _so_ -

"Rose," he greeted, with a nod of his head. He paused in his walk and they hovered around one another for a few moments.

"Haven't seen you much lately," she said casually; her eyes, her eyes which he knew so well by now, they told a different story. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. I've just been a bit busy." He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Oh. Yeah, me too, really."

"Right."

"So, um. I don't suppose you've got time for a catch-up in our coffee shop sometime this week?"

_Our_ coffee shop. Our.

_Student_. He swallowed. "Ah, not really, no. Sorry. Research, you know…" He gestured vaguely with his hand.

Rose tucked her hair behind her ear. "Oh, okay. That's fine. Doesn't matter. Good luck with it." She smiled at him pleasantly, as though there was no undercurrent of sadness lurking there, as though nothing had happened. She resumed walking.

"Yeah, thanks. Bye, Rose."

He'd only walked a few steps when he sighed to himself and turned around, jogging a few paces to catch up with her to tell her he'd changed his mind.

Blimey. He couldn't stay away from her if he _tried._

* * *

><p>After bumping into Rose and arranging to meet that Friday, he went to deliver his lectures, but predictably, his mind was mostly elsewhere. A few hours later and he was walking to the staff car park, a deep frown on his face as he pondered what he would say to Rose later in the week. That was where he saw Reinette, his friend from the Modern Languages department.<p>

"John! So nice to see you, it's been a while."

He rubbed at the back of his neck. "Yeah. How are you?"

"Oh, everything's great. I'm visiting my family next week. Looking forward to getting back to the homeland for a little while," she laughed.

"Ah, that's lovely," he nodded. He opened his boot and shoved his briefcase and laptop inside.

"Yes. Ooh, I do have a favour to ask you, though."

He shut the boot and leaned against his car. "Oh? What can I do for you?"

"There's this university event on Saturday. A charity thing, you know. Only, I don't have anyone to go with, not now that the person who was supposed to be there has told me he's double-booked himself. And I don't know, the seat he was _supposed_ to be in is going to be vacant and it'll look a bit conspicuous so I was wondering if, well, if you might come along instead."

"Of course. Is it black tie?"

"Yes, it's a nice dinner and a few speeches, a gala of sorts. Mostly people talking about fundraising and all that. Are you sure you don't mind?"

"I'd love to come," he assured her, with a kind smile.

"Oh, thank you! You're a life-saver," she informed him, taking a few steps closer so that she could plant a kiss on his cheek. "It's an afternoon 'til evening thing. Perhaps you could come to mine around two o'clock, and we could go in together?"

"Sure, no problem. I'll see you then." He nodded his head to his car. "I'd best get going."

"Thanks again," she beamed, and waved at him as she walked away, back to where her car was parked.

Reinette called him up later in the week, double-checking that he could still go, and making sure he'd wear a tux. She also ended the conversation with a comment about hoping he liked her dress, which, well, he was bit confused about. He was certain that any flirting that may have gone on at work dos in the pub prior to this occasion had not and never would go anywhere further. She had a fiancé, didn't she? Unless that was whom she was referring to, the person who had 'double-booked himself.'

He shook off the thought, telling himself he'd do the right thing and let her down gently if it came to it. After all, he had - well. He didn't, strictly speaking, have anyone, but -

_Student._

* * *

><p>Friday morning came along swiftly and he was glad of it, glad to see Rose; the meeting a bright spot in his otherwise uninteresting week.<p>

"This is nice," he said, feeling just the slightest bit awkward, as they sat down at their favoured table. "Good, I mean, to have a catch-up."

"Yeah," she smiled. "Been up to much, then?"

"No, just…boring stuff. Work stuff."

They sipped at their coffees for a few seconds.

Then Rose launched them into a conversation about the film she saw at the cinema last weekend, and the tension was gone, and they were back to how they'd always been, chatting and laughing and him telling her useless trivia and her teasing him about it.

After a good twenty minutes or so, Rose remembered something. "Oh! Forgot, was gonna tell you, I've got this dinner thing to go to tomorrow, 'cos I'm one of the post-grad welfare reps, and we've got to show our faces with the charity reps so that - "

"Oh, the charity ball?"

"Yeah! What, you going too?"

"Yes," he nodded. His pulse started to race. He should tell her. He should absolutely tell her who he was going to the dinner with.

"Oh, great," she smiled. "Well, maybe I'll see you there. Probably won't be seated near each other, but - "

"I'm going there with someone," he blurted out, then winced.

Rose blinked at him. "Right." Biting into her bottom lip for a moment, considering his statement, she then said, "So, um. Like…a date?"

"Well I didn't intend it to be but it's not _not_ a date, I suppose. It could…come across that way. But - I don't - for me, it isn't - she's a friend, although she might not -" John floundered.

"It's okay," Rose interrupted him. "You don't have to explain. Relationships can be complicated. It's none of my business, anyway."

"Oh…no, but it's…"

"It's _fine_," she smiled sadly, trying to reassure him. It just made him feel looked at each other for a few moments, then Rose started to gather her things. "I'd better get going," she said. "I've got a couple of lectures this afternoon."

He nodded. "Right. Yes." He stood up hastily, grabbing his coat. "It's lovely and sunny out; I'll walk with you back to campus. If that's - "

"Thanks, that'd be nice."

* * *

><p>Almost as soon as he and Reinette arrived at the charity dinner, John was casting his eyes about looking for a glimpse of Rose. When he'd walked her home the day before, things had been a little tense, and now he felt compelled to assure her that however it looked, him turning up at this do with someone else, it wasn't what he wanted, not really. He hadn't done so, yesterday, hadn't told her what was really going on in his head. They'd just avoided the topic after leaving the coffee shop, just like they'd avoided the topic of their conversation in his office. But now he wished he'd cleared up any misunderstandings, definitively. Just in case she thought -<p>

"So there's the food, then the speeches and an auction, I think, and then a spot of dancing," Reinette was explaining to him, and he realised that he'd half-heartedly asked her the plan for the evening. At the mention of dancing, he glanced at her in surprise, and a little bit of alarm. She laughed, and linked her arm through his, squeezing his bicep. "It's okay, I won't make you join in if you don't want to. Come on, let's find our seats."

Just as they sat down at their places, he caught sight of Rose entering the hall with whom he assumed were the fellow welfare and charity student reps. He couldn't help but sigh to himself, a small smile on his face; she looked beautiful. She'd styled her hair in loose curls and was wearing a fitted black dress with a modest neckline, and when she stepped closer to his side of the room he noted that she had a pretty silver locket hanging around her neck. She was laughing at something her friend said, but then her eyes darted in his direction, as though feeling his eyes on her. Her laughter softened to a quiet chuckle and a small smile, and she sat down at her table, which was a few down from his.

He managed to maintain conversation with Reinette and the rest of the table's occupants through most of the dinner, but he had to admit he was glad when the room quietened to hear the speeches, because he glanced over to Rose to find her already smiling at him. He smiled back, and they watched each other with not the slightest bit of awkwardness for most of the talk.

After a brief auction, however, people started milling about and mingling, with others moving towards the dance floor. John insisted to Reinette that she feel free to go up there without him, claiming he had two left feet. However, he couldn't help but gaze, probably somewhat longingly, at Rose, who was dancing with one of her fellow students.

He took a quick sip of his wine, then stood, making his way to the gents. Once he'd finished in the loo, he stepped out into the atrium to find Reinette waiting for him.

"All right?" he asked, with a friendly grin.

"Yes," she smiled back. "Just wondered if you'd like to get some fresh air. There's a terrace along the front of the house…"

"Oh, yeah. Sounds nice." He could do with getting out of that stuffy dining room.

It was getting dark outside, and Reinette shivered a little, stepping closer to him and looping her arm around the crook of his elbow. They walked along the terrace, John keeping his hands in his trouser pockets and feeling a little awkward when the silence persevered.

"John, I have something to tell you," Reinette finally announced, a small wrinkle in her brow as she turned to look at him, pausing their stride.

"Okay. What is it?"

"Louis and I have…parted ways," she said carefully.

He reached up to tug on his ear. "Ah. Sorry to hear that."

"Are you?"

He frowned. "Well, yes. Unless you're happy about it. Then, well, congratulations?"

She smiled, a little uncertainly. "You see, things hadn't been right between us for a while. There had been other people."

"Oh," John nodded, with a wince.

"I was wondering if - now that he and I aren't - " John watched as she took a steadying breath. "I've always felt there was something there, between you and I. So I was thinking - "

"Reinette," he interrupted softly, with a gentle shake of his head.

"Oh," she whispered. "I misread…sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," he murmured. "Really, I am. I just don't - "

Reinette leant in and kissed him lightly on the lips. "It's okay, John," she said, smiling carefully. She stroked her hands down his arms and gave his hands a brief squeeze. "I know what you are going to say."

"Reinette…"

"Perhaps it is better if we remain friends," she said next, nodding as though convincing herself of the idea. She let go of his hands. "And if you happen to, I don't know, change your mind, maybe, then - "

John shook his head again. "I don't think - listen, you're lovely, you are, you know that. And I'm fortunate to have you in my life."

"But you don't feel the same," she said, swallowing hard, "I know." She raised her head and smiled brilliantly. "Anyway! I'd better leave. I'm visiting my parents on Monday, so I wasn't going to stay too late here anyway. Lots of packing to do, and everything. I'll see you when I get back from France." She turned to go.

"Bye, Reinette," he said softly. "Have a good time with your family."

She briefly turned back to him and inclined her head in a responding farewell. Then, she took the front steps two at a time, walked along the paved path, and got into a waiting taxi to go home.

John exhaled slowly in relief. When he returned to the atrium of the house, he grabbed two glasses of champagne and headed through the hallway in search of Rose. He couldn't find her in the main hall, so he headed to the next room, but he had no luck there either. After a few more tries, he found himself in a small library, a low-lit room with an oak desk and bookshelves and a couple of leather sofas.

"You and the French professor, eh?" came Rose's light, teasing voice from behind him.

He whirled around. "Well, no," he said quickly, closing the distance between them. He handed her a glass. "She's - we're not like that."

"Unrequited?"

"Yeah."

"In which direction?"

He glanced at the floor. "She, er. She suggested - we've been friends, but she thought…I don't, though. Want that. With - with her." He cleared his throat, and met Rose's gaze again.

She was looking at him with those eyes of hers that were always full to the brim with compassion. "Sorry, that was personal, I shouldn't have asked that."

"No, it's okay. I wanted you to know," he replied, his words heavy with implication. "I needed you to know."

Rose sucked in a breath and nodded vaguely.

"Have you been enjoying the evening?" he asked, before taking a sip of his champagne.

She tilted her head to the side, contemplative. "It's been nice. Bit posh. But nice." She paused, and fiddled with her earring with her free hand, a tiny silver stud in the lobe of her ear that she twisted around and around. "I'm glad I've finally got to talk to you, though. Was trying to come over all night, but, well…" She waved her hand around. "Distractions, people to talk to, all that. Didn't get a chance."

He took a step closer, and placed his glass down on the side table next to them. "I wanted to ask you to dance," he murmured. "But out there, it wasn't - everyone being around, and, well, it's not not appropriate but it's not really appropriate either. And with Reinette there, well, I didn't want to hurt her feelings and - "

"You really want to dance with me?" Rose asked quietly, biting her lip.

"I do."

She placed her glass next to his and reached for his hand, pulling it to rest on her waist. "We can dance in here."

He swallowed hard and nodded, fingers twitching against her dress. They could hear the music, still, in here. It was a bit faint, but still discernible, even through the thick walls of the house. His fingers curled where she'd placed them just above her hip, and his other hand came up to take hers. "I don't even know if I _can_ dance," he admitted, with a sheepish laugh. "I just knew that I wanted to ask you."

Rose smiled. "I can teach you."

She led him at first, quietly murmuring the steps as they moved around the library, dodging the leather sofa and the oak desk as they went. It wasn't long, though, until he altered her movements, bringing their dance to a slow swaying motion and then a complete stop.

"Doctor?" she whispered, looking up at him, her eyes dark.

His hand moved to her lower back and he pressed her more firmly against him. "Rose." They just stared at each other for a while, each of them too scared to make the first move. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and he was stunned to find himself saying, "Rose, I've been trying to avoid you, lately."

"I know."

"You do? Right. Course you do." He paused. "Do you know why?"

"'Cos you freaked out about the other day, in your office. You think we shouldn't be doing this."

"What is 'this?'" he asked her, even as his arms wrapped her securely in his embrace.

"Dunno, but it's something," she replied, her eyes flitting between his, as though searching his gaze.

His breath caught. "I kept thinking that if I could just get away from you for a bit, this wouldn't - this wouldn't be happening."

"Don't work like that," she said perceptively. "Does it?"

"No."

"You still - you still want - "

"To be with you." He hand trailed up her back and cupped the nape of her neck, his thumb stroking her hair.

"I want to be with you too. Wasn't sure if you'd let that happen."

He sighed and closed his eyes, tilting his head down until his forehead pressed against hers. "We won't get into trouble. I don't teach you. And you're a post-grad. There's nothing we need to be ashamed of, but…well, people talk, anyway."

Rose's hands nervously clenched and unclenched around the lapels of his dinner jacket. "I don't care, really, about people talking."

"No?"

"No." She slid her nose against his, nuzzling lightly, her lips hovering so closely to his. He could feel her heart hammering, could feel her breath and her touch and her hope.

"I don't really, either, not anymore," he admitted, his voice so low and whispery that he felt like he needed to clear his throat. He didn't, though, didn't want to break this quiet moment. His eyes were still closed but he knew he'd barely have to close an inch of distance between their mouths for them to meet in a kiss. He couldn't resist anymore, thought there was no point in trying. When he kissed her, when she responded with a competing pressure and licked across his bottom lip, when he felt her slide her tongue against his, he knew. He knew he'd never let go of this, no matter what anyone said.

A few moments later, their mouths parted to draw in shaky breaths. "Doctor," she whispered, her lips twitching into a smile. "Doctor, that was…"

"I'm falling in love with you," he said, and his eyes widened at his own words. Rose gasped and he tried to take it back. "I'm sorry, I didn't - I don't know where that came from, I just - "

She tugged on his lapels and kissed him again, putting his apology to a stop. He groaned into her mouth and she slid her arms up and around his neck, her hands diving into his hair. "Will they miss you?" she murmured, when she released his mouth.

Distracted by her fingers still sweeping through his hair, he stared at her in dazed confusion. "Who?"

"That lot," she said, gesturing with her head. "In the other room. Will they notice if you've left?"

His stomach swooped with nerves. "No. Not at all. I'm very unimportant," he grinned weakly. "Wasn't even invited!"

"Good," she laughed, and looked up at him through her eyelashes. "Will you come home with me?"

"Now?"

"Yeah."

He breathed in shakily. "Can't you come home with _me?"_

Rose laughed. "What's the difference?"

His only response was a shrug.

"You want me to come back to your flat?"

"Yes. Yes, I'd rather that."

"What, don't want to be out of your comfort zone?"

"Maybe. Maybe I just want to see what you look like wrapped up in nothing but my dark blue bedsheets."

Rose's eyebrows lifted. "Yeah?"

"Mmhmm," he said, trying to sound a bit more confident than he really felt.

"Well, that's something I wouldn't want to disappoint you about," she said, her tongue touching the corner of her mouth as she smiled.

"You'll come?"

Her smile turned even naughtier. "It's not a guarantee, but I hope so."

He frowned for a second, then realised what she meant. "Oi, you'll - " He coughed awkwardly. "You'll definitely be doing that." He grinned, then. "Won't rest until I've made sure of it. Several times."

She pressed her hips into his, seemingly unable to help it. He was glad that she looked so aroused already, because there was definitely something unavoidably interested confined between them. He hoped that she didn't find him too overly eager.

"I want to - can we grab a taxi?" she asked.

"Right now?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, yes."

* * *

><p>They sat together in the back of the taxi, John quickly giving the driver the address to his flat and then turning to Rose.<p>

"You're not gonna chicken out on me, are you?" she asked him.

"No. " He reached across the seat and took her hand. "I nearly got out of my car and knocked on your door the other day. When I took you home." She shifted the grip of their handhold so that she could entwine their fingers. "But I couldn't, I - "

"You didn't want your hair to get flattened by the rain," she put in, with a tongue-touched grin, "I understand. Pitfall of being vain."

He gaped at her, then chuckled. "I'm not vain."

"I've seen that little mirror you keep on your desk in your office."

"Ah, well. Have to look my best for when you come calling," he murmured, looking away from her knowing eyes. He stared out of the window and tried not to smile.

"Doctor?"

"Mm?" he replied. She slid across the seat, and he tutted at her for being so blasé about road safety. "Put your seatbelt on."

Rose rolled her eyes, let go of his hand, and nudged her way under his arm. He dropped a kiss to her temple and held her close to his side, his arm around her shoulders.

"We're gonna have to have some discussions about how you don't get to tell me what to do," she informed him. "Unless we're under very specific conditions."

John smirked into her hair. "Ah. Sorry."

"Good." She elbowed his side. "Old man."

"Oi!"

She laughed and dropped her head to his chest, nose touching his bowtie. "You live alone, don't you," she murmured.

"Yep."

Her fingers traced an imaginary pattern on his thigh. "No secret wife or kids."

"Nope."

"That's good."

"You know, for the longest time I've lamented not having either of those things," he mused. "Now, not so much."

Rose laughed.

* * *

><p>"So, what do you think?" he asked, as he took her coat and draped it over the back of his sofa.<p>

Rose glanced around the flat. "It's nice."

He raised his eyebrows. "What do you really think?"

"I dunno, it's kind of…" She wrinkled her nose. "Boring?"

"Thanks," he chuckled.

"But in a charming way!"

"Right."

"Sorry," she said, smiling sheepishly. "It could just use a bit of colour, that's all."

John took a few steps closer to her. "Well, maybe when you finally get around to showing me your artwork, you can hang a few paintings up."

Rose looped her arms around his neck. "Not gonna happen," she teased.

His hands landed on her waist and he drew her against him, leaning down for a kiss. "If you say so," he murmured into her mouth.

"You gonna give me a tour, then?" she asked, when they broke their kiss.

He nuzzled his nose against hers and lifted his hand, pointing over her shoulder. "Kitchen." He gestured to his side. "Living room." His other hand came up. "Bathroom, study."

"And…?" she prompted, pressing herself against him.

"Hmm," he mused, kissing his way down her neck. "Was there something else?"

"I believe you mentioned something about dark blue sheets," she giggled, running her hands through his hair.

"Ah, yes." He smirked, and grabbed her hands, walking backwards. "You sure about all this?" he checked, as he led her through the doorway to his bedroom.

"Absolutely," she confirmed, already starting to push his jacket from his shoulders.

His jacket hit the floor and she undid his bowtie, chucking that aside too. John watched in fascination at the speed at which Rose then unbuttoned his shirt.

"Finally," she breathed out, running her hands across his bare chest.

"Really?" he asked, his eyebrows most of the way up his forehead.

She rolled her eyes and offered him a brief explanation. "It's really unfair of you to wear such tight shirts and t-shirts, you know."

"Ah. Sorry about that," he said, his lips twitching. "Turn around."

"Hmm?"

He tugged on the neckline of her dress. "This needs to come off."

"Oh, right." She grinned, and turned around, sweeping her hair over one shoulder so that he could find the zip.

With trembling fingers he eased the zip down, right to the base of her spine, then moved his hands beneath the parted fabric to encourage it to fall, her shoulder blades cool and smooth beneath his palms. She wriggled a little to help it along, and seconds later the black dress was pooled around her feet. John's eyes swept down her back, bare except for the clasp of her bra, then down to the curve of her bum. He swallowed. He'd never thought plain black cotton knickers could look so good.

Rose stepped out of the circle of fabric that was her disrobed dress, kicked off her heels, and started to turn to face him. "Wait…" He stopped her, his arm darting out to grip her bicep lightly, turning her away from him again. Once he had unclasped her bra, he murmured, "Okay, now."

She turned, smiling at him indulgently, extending her arms downwards and letting the bra fall. He knew she probably heard the soft, "Wow," that fell from his lips, but he couldn't bring himself to be embarrassed.

Rose hooked her fingers through the belt loops in his trousers and pulled him to her. "Your turn, Doctor." He toed off his black converses to get them out of the way, and she proceeded to unbuckle and unbutton and unzip. His trousers gone, Rose placed her hands on his bum. "Knew you were a boxer briefs kind of guy."

John smoothed his hands across her waist, gripping her hipbones for a moment before moving to cup her breasts. He met her gaze. "You're beautiful."

To his astonishment, Rose blushed. "Oh. Thanks."

He ducked his head to kiss her, one hand lightly squeezing her breast, the other wandering down to her knickers. He trailed the backs of two fingers over the damp cotton, making her breath hitch against his mouth.

"More," Rose whispered. He changed the angle of his hand and brought the pad of his thumb down more firmly, and her hands gave his bum an involuntary squeeze. She yanked him against her, knocking his hand aside, and rocked her hips into his, moaning softly at the feel of his erection through the thin layers between them. His hand clutched at the back of her thigh, stilling her rocking motion, and he pressed his forehead into hers.

"I think we ought to move this to the bed before I fall over," he told her quietly, and Rose laughed, nodding her head.

One of John's fingers circled her nipple and she shivered, then put two fingers inside the waistband of his boxer briefs to pull him after her as she took a few steps towards his bed. They tumbled onto it together, lips finding jaws and teeth finding necks as they rolled around for a bit, rubbing and rocking, their names rumbled out between them.

Rose's hands tugged eagerly at his pants and they ended up thrown haphazardly away from them, landing, they would discover later, beneath his chest of drawers. As for her knickers, well, the Doctor would roll over in the morning, his hand tucking under his pillow, only to encounter them located there, quite by accident. He'd smirk, and leave them where they were, watching in amusement as Rose hunted for them in just her bra. He'd tell her that he'd found them eventually, but not before she'd donned one of his shirts to eat breakfast in.

For now, both of them were far too distracted to notice the fate of their underwear. His fingers had barely dipped inside her before she was insisting that she was ready, stroking his cock as she positioned him. Both of her hands clutched at his shoulders as he pushed into her, her eyes wide and staring into his, a lax smile on her face. And when he started to move, he tilted his head, kissing her deeply until they had to gasp for air. Her fingers dug into his back, and he reached one hand up to grab the headboard, the other sneaking down to where they were joined, and when she clenched around him, the moan of his name echoing in his ears as he tumbled swiftly after her, he swore that he'd never known anything so blissfully, messily perfect.

* * *

><p>"Do your friends know about us?" he whispered a little while later, when they were cuddling under the covers.<p>

"No. Do yours?"

"No."

"You gonna tell them?"

"I dunno. Yes." He stroked his hand down her back. "I'll have to, because this - it's not something for us to hide. I mean, if it's gonna be long-term, then…" He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, nuzzled her collar bone, then lifted his head to meet her eyes. "It's gonna be long-term, right?"

Rose placed her hand around the back of his neck and tugged him towards her. "Definitely," she murmured, kissing him.

"Good."

"It'll be all right, won't it?"

"I have this friend, Jack, he's - well, he's the most sexually liberated bloke I know, and I asked him if he'd ever had a relationship with a student."

"And?"

"Nope."

"Oh. So, will he disapprove?"

John shook his head. "Jack's not one to disapprove or judge about things to do with love and sex. But, I dunno. He probably won't think it's the best idea. However, you've only got, what, a month left before you graduate? So it's gonna be fine. Mostly."

"Is that why you changed your mind? 'Cos you realised I'm not gonna be a student for much longer anyway?"

"Partly. Mostly I just couldn't stop myself any longer." He stroked his finger along her arched eyebrow. "Rose - "

"Did you mean what you said earlier?" she whispered.

He searched her eyes for a moment, then nodded. "Yes."

Rose smiled slowly and leant in to kiss him again. She murmured her reply against his lips, and he flipped her over onto her back, making her laugh as he tangled them both up in his sheets. There would be time to think about what to tell people tomorrow. For now, the pair of them had much better things to do.


End file.
